


Isabel's Moment

by bbluejoseph



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Confusion, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, F/F, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, No Plot/Plotless, Quarantine, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbluejoseph/pseuds/bbluejoseph
Summary: Josh is warm. Josh is warm and soft and so grounding in the churning, storming sea that Tyler's life has become.
Relationships: Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Isabel's Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [watchcatewrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchcatewrite/gifts).



> for the lovely agrentress!! I couldn't do her quarantine challenge and NOT write lady pilots 😌 hope u enjoy
> 
> title from the king princess song of the same name

Quarantine, Day 32. Or, maybe it's 33. Tyler can't exactly remember, but she supposes it doesn't matter anyway.

They wake up after ten. Josh gets up first, to make coffee, and Tyler gets in the shower and flips between not thinking about one thing or another. Not thinking is much, much harder than thinking, for her. She suspects Josh is the same way, but she doesn't have the guts to ask.

Sometimes it seems like Tyler doesn't have a lot of herself. Sometimes she's just a body, a pair of lungs, two slowly blinking eyes that betray her every goddamn time.

She almost always has her throat. She can feel her heart trapped there when she wakes up in bed with Josh.

After her shower, she eats breakfast with Josh. They don't usually talk, since the coffee hasn't kicked in yet and there's nothing that desperately needs saying; nothing Tyler can explain at the very least.

They do their own little things for a few hours. Tyler checks the news and works out plans for dinner and does a few other chores. Josh does the dishes and plays with Jim and checks her email. 

It's kind of funny. Josh checks her email every day, though Tyler's not sure exactly how many times. She writes long replies on her laptop, rapid and certain with her motions, her thoughts.

Tyler checks her email once or twice a week. She knows she should check more, with all that's going on, but there's never any good news and if her family has something urgent to tell her, they'll call.

Maybe it isn't really funny at all. 

Once a week, Tyler has to go to the store to get groceries and meds for Josh. Josh has gone with her only once, and she was too anxious to get out of the car, so Tyler calmed her down and quickly went in to grab only the bare necessities.

She wears one of the masks Josh made -- it's bright yellow -- and stands in line to go in the store, and she goes in. It was scary at first, and it's still rather unsettling now, but everyone behaves and since they only let in a dozen shoppers at a time, they can maintain social distancing pretty easily.

Tyler buys only necessities. Food, hygiene products, medicine, and a few household items are necessities. 

She longs for the times when they'd shop together. She'd push the cart, with Josh happily riding on the end and grabbing the stuff they needed while Tyler managed the list. She misses sneaking extra treats into the cart when Josh wasn't looking -- sweet tea and decadent cheesecake and spicy doritos and three different kinds of jam. Josh would always scold her, unless it was something she wanted just as much as Tyler did, in which case she'd pretend to have not noticed.

She misses teasing Josh in the frozen food aisle, waving a tub of Ben & Jerry's over the child seat and threatening to buckle it in. Josh never rolled her eyes. She'd smile, look away, and laugh, but she never rolled her eyes.

Now Tyler shops by herself. She picks up Josh's meds from the pharmacy, then she shops. 

Both of them have been laid off. Tyler knows they need to save money, so she buys the cheapest brand of everything. She also buys a treat, just to see Josh smile. It's not much, just day old cookies or candy bars or whatever, but she gets a little excited thinking about what she'll get each time. She thinks Josh gets excited, too.

Today, she buys two individually wrapped cherry popsicles. She'd hoped to get a tub of Josh's favorite ice cream, but they were out. Anyway, the popsicles are still good and they were inexpensive.

The drive home would be worse if her radio didn't work. Tyler flicks between stations and pointedly doesn't look at the empty outlet stores or the 'WE ARE OPEN' frantically written on the windows of small restaurants.

When she gets home, she washes her hands, puts away the groceries and washes her hands again. Josh always offers to help, but Tyler declines. It's not particularly likely that there are germs on the groceries, but she doesn't mind doing it herself and there's not much to put away.

They don't eat lunch anymore. They can still afford to, but Tyler tends to stress eat and Josh tends to under eat, so they snack together in the afternoons. Tyler puts something light-hearted on the TV, and they watch.

Before this whole mess, they'd be talking and laughing over the show, making jokes and trying to catch pieces of popcorn in their mouths. Now, they sit quietly. The only thing Tyler likes about this arrangement is that they cuddle.

Josh has always been the type to seek physical affection when she was upset, and Tyler has always been happy to give it to her. These days, though, instead of asking for a good hug every once in a while, Josh just... ends up close to her.

Josh doesn't ask to be held, and Tyler would never need her to. So Josh leans into her side, lightly headbutts Tyler's shoulder, sometimes even sits in Tyler's lap. Once, she held onto the hem of Tyler's shirt, and the brush of Josh's fingers on her back made her jump.

She definitely likes it. But she doesn't know what it means. She's had feelings before, but none quite like this. 

They watch tv, eat chips and carrot sticks and peanut butter crackers until they're hungry for something more substantial. Josh usually makes dinner, because everything Tyler makes is inedible. Tonight, they have grilled cheese sandwiches on the couch.

After a while, it grows dark, and they grow bored of watching TV. Tyler goes to bed, and Josh takes a shower.

Most every day is like this, but that doesn't make what comes next any less wonderful for Tyler.

She hears Josh get out of the shower, and waits a few precarious minutes for her to dry off. Then, she hears the click of the bathroom door opening, and the covers lift. Josh climbs into bed next to Tyler like she's been doing it all her life instead of for 32 days.

She asked Tyler if she could sleep in her bed on the first night of quarantine, after having a nightmare, and Tyler said yes. She's been coming back every night since.

Josh is warm. Josh is warm and soft and so grounding in the churning, storming sea that Tyler's life has become.

They cling to one another in the dark. Sometimes, rarely, Josh will kiss her; on her cheek, her nose, her neck, behind her ear. It's not platonic. It's not romantic. Tyler doesn't know what it is, and she is deathly afraid to ask.

Tonight, Josh kisses her shoulder, then pushes her head into the crook of Tyler's neck. Tyler risks a quiet, soothed hum, and Josh burrows closer in reply.

Tyler loves her. She's loved her for 32 days, for a lifetime. How could she not? 

She never mentions how she feels, because she has no way of describing it. There's no way for the emotions in her body to come tumbling from her chapped lips. She is as doomed to love Josh, in whatever way, as the way the earth is doomed to whatever is on the horizon. 

And maybe that's okay.


End file.
